


I'll Keep You Safe Tonight

by tealrewts



Series: Killjoys Never Die [1]
Category: Bandom, Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: M/M, pete is a killjoy i guess i dont know i wrote this at 4am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 15:03:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6475012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealrewts/pseuds/tealrewts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Die with your mask on if you've got to.</p><p>(i wanted to write a killjoy!pete thing and like i guess i did that? cool its bad i wrote it at 4am)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Keep You Safe Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> i fuckin guess pete is a dj for cherri and dr d i dont even know fuck me man im gay as fck

_"Keep your boots tight, keep your gun close, and die with your mask on if you've got to._

_Here's the traffic."_

The transmission crackles and pops into non existance, Dr. Death Defying's words filtering through Mister Sandman's skull, taking hold of his every movement. He chokes on the report, raw animalistic pain bubbling into his throat, seizing his every vibration the way the static radiation of the desert scorches everything it touches; nothing is safe, nothing is sacred.

Nothing is sacred.

He flips the deck in front of him mindlessly, sliding on a record powering in the latest Mad Gear and The Missile Kid tune, feeling his bones creak under the inexplicably numb pressure of loss.

He is burning. His head is burning. His heart is burning.

He senses the door creak behind him -doesn't really hear it, knows its happening, cant really hear anymore - and a hand rests on his back. He assumes it's Dr. D, assumes Cherri Cola's come to console him with empty promises, empty hopes of revolution and a constant whisper of his shadow lives on, his shadow lives on, his shadow lives on-

"Sandman?" Theres a distinct crack in man behind Sand's voice. He doesn't turn around, doesn't need to look up to know who it is. The fingerless gloves resting on his shoulder only confirm his notion.

"Sandman."

He feels the hand grip him tightly, Ghoul's attempt to pull him out of the static, back into reality, back into the painful abyss that his life has been thrown into.

" _Pete._ "

He silently turns around, looking up at the boy in front of him. He's covered in bruises, cuts, blood dripping from his mouth, his Frankenstein mask resting on his forehead. He's dripping in sweat, his jacket torn, his knuckles bloody, and he has a black eye. He looks like hell.

But he made it out alive, didn't he?

"Is Party okay?" Pete whispers, looking down at Ghoul's shoes, trying to ignore the sickness swirling in his gut, trying to push down the swelling in his eyes and throat and oh, god, killjoys don't cry-

"Gee's- Party's not good. Uh. He's over by the mailbox, actually. I had to leave him there, he's."

Pete looks up at Frank. The man's eyes are worn, tired, god, he looks so fucking tired. Pete turns away, facing his desk. Frank was just a kid, and he'd already seen too much. Then again, so was-

"He'll be okay. We both will. Their shadow will live on with us."

The sorrow filling Pete's lungs quickly transitions to anger; he slams his arm across the desk, throwing the expensive equipment to the ground, shattering under his rage. He lashes out like a caged animal, a mangled groan ripping from within him, a cocktail of rage, sorrow, and confusion.

The boy behind him barely startles, closing his eyes and taking the outburst with an air of understanding. Pete whips around and looks at him, standing to his full height in front of him.

"Fuck off, Frank. Fuck that shadow shit. You think I don't hear enough of that working with the fucking Doctor? He's dead, Ghoul. I'll never fucking see him again, never be able to touch him, never be able to fucking look at him. You can't fucking touch a shadow, Frank. You can't love a shadow."

Somewhere along the line he'd started crying, and somewhere along the line he'd fallen to his knees, and somewhere along the line Frank had held him to his chest, but it didn't matter, nothing fucking mattered anymore.

Kobra Kid was dead.

Mikey was dead.

 _His_ Mikey was dead.

And Mikey was all that mattered.

Mikey was the blood coursing through his veins, Mikey was the fight in him and now...

Pete grabbed hold of Frank's frame and wept harder than he had ever in his life. Killjoys, no, killjoys dont cry.

But Pete wasn't a Killjoy anymore.

* * *

 

_"Where the fuck are you taking me, Pete?"_

_Kobra held his hands out in front of him, waving them around comically, as Sandman lead him outside. The bandana around the blonde boy's eyes was thick, and Pete knew he couldn't see, but he still had his hands over them._

_Any excuse to touch him, right?_

_"Pete. Pete Wentz. Sandman. Where. The Fuck. Are. You. Taking me."_

_They stopped in front of the Trans Am. Mikey crossed his arms over his chest indignantly. He looked like a child, Pete thought, chuckling as he undid the bandana._

_"Happy Birthday, Mikey Way."_

_Mikey opened his eyes. Sitting on the hood of their car was his shitty old helmet._

_Except it wasn't so shitty anymore._

_It had a fresh coat of yellow paint. It had been polished beautifully, shining like a diamond in the radioactive beams of the sun. It was gorgeous; Mikey had never been one for helmets, but he found his jaw dropping at the sight of it._

_"Dude."_

_Pete laughed, grabbing the helmet. "That's not even the best part." He flicked the visor down excitedly. Mikey chuckled softly when he saw the words lettered across it._

_"Good luck?" he snorted, taking the helmet from the black haired boy. Pete shrugged and handed it off to him._

_"Yeah, you know, cos you used to like those Star Fox games, but also... uh..." He looked down. Mikey raised an eyebrow expectantly. There was an awkward silence before Pete whispered._

_"I don't want you to have to use this. The good luck, it's, uh- it's important. I just." Mikey's blood ran cold. He knew what was coming._

_"Please be careful, okay?"_

_He felt the chill run through his spine._

_Good Luck._

_Don't die._

_Pete was telling him he wanted Mikey alive. That he wanted him there, safe, that he wanted him to kick some ass out in the zones but still come home to him._

_That was better than any fucking helmet._

_He took Pete's hand softly, grinning like a 12 year old on Christmas Day. Pete looked up just in time for Mikey to lean in and connect their lips in a soft, chaste kiss. The meeting of their lips, the soft brush of skin on skin spoke in volumes that their frantic rutting in the back of the diner never could._

_"I love you too, Sandman._

_I'm not going anywhere."_


End file.
